Notoriously Beautiful

2

Nizza di Sicilia

(The first day)
My mom and I arrive, we take a taxi from the airport in Catania to the villa, that is all the way in Nizza. We sold our cars in New York so we could buy new ones here. Like tourists we point at the beautiful beach sights that we view from the windows of the taxi.
"Per quanto tempo starai?"the taxi driver asks.
"He asked how long we are staying," I tell my mom. She is not quite as good as me at speaking the Italian language. (She's actually not good at all).
"Wow, we can't make it more than an hour without someone thinking we are tourists," my mom laughs. It's a sorrowful laugh, like she knows what she said isn't that funny, but she needs to lighten the mood.
The taxi driver looks at us through the rear view mirror.
"Per favore, tranne le mie scuse, signora. Non mi rendevo conto che vivi qui," he apologizes, and says he had no idea that we lived here.
"Do you speak English sir? Only my daughter speaks Italian. If you speak English, we can both understand you," my mom huffs with attitude, almost as if she were talking down to a kindergartner who has made a mess at the arts and crafts table.
"Si, yes, I peep Inglese," the man boasts.
Mom and I burst out laughing,
"You could have said no," I announce, still laughing into my hands.
"So, I am bringing you, where?" He queries, speaking almost perfect English, but with a heavy accent.
"Oh, so he does speak English. Wow what a funny joke" my mom snarls, laughing even harder than before.
"You're bringing us to our villa, sir," I give him the address on a napkin that I took from the plane.
He slows the taxi ever so slightly to take the napkin from my hand. He doesn't grab it rudely like most taxi drivers do in New York. He takes it, by gently sliding it out of my grip.
I look at him from the side while I'm half standing up to reach over to the front. He's very handsome, his chin is sharp, and his eyelashes are rather long.
"Thank you, may I ask your name?" he asks, not sure if he is overstepping his taxi driver boundaries..
I sit down and fix the bag that I'm wearing. It crosses from my left shoulder to the storage area that sits on my waist, on my right side.
"Katerina, my name is Katerina Forte."
"Nice to meet you Katerina, my name is Marco Pesce. I would be more than happy to show you around the town. Maybe even the city of Messina. I can show you the town square, the piazza, if you would like," Marco says.
Somehow I know he's smiling even though I can't see his face. My mom and I look at each other, we know our question,
"For how much," we say at the same time.
(Marco chuckles) "Free of charge, for you beautiful American ladies," he says. He knows my mom doesn't like being called a tourist.
Now I know I'm going to do just fine. I'm able to go to the beach whenever I'd like to. I get to see anything I want. I'm an adult, so I can do anything I want (which doesn't mean I'm going to). It's a different air here. It's lighter, and fresher. New York's air was polluted and dull.
Sure I'll miss the skyscrapers and traditions, like going to Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve. Maybe I'll miss the way me and Nicole would have to drive an hour to get to a beach that really wasn't that nice at all. I'll make new traditions here. I already like it better here. Everyone's calm. It seems to me like the air moves with me, when and how I move, and the waves in the distance clash when my emotions feel overpowering. Right now the beach waves are calm, and I'm feeling peaceful. I can see little dots, if I squint and tilt my head back far enough. Those dots are people. Are my emotions controlling the waves, or are the waves controlling my emotions? I'm not sure yet, the beach is too far from the taxi to examine well enough.
We finally reach the villa, it looks beautiful from the outside. Marco drops us off at our new home, he asks if we need help unpacking. Is he acting a little too nice, or am I just paranoid? My mom and I brought a lot of stuff here. Mostly sentimental items, pictures and China figures though. We didn't bring big things, we sold our bed frames and mattresses on posh markets. We're renting out my house in Queens. Comparing the cost of a villa in Nizza di Sicilia, to how much we are renting our house in New York for, we could have bought a mansion here. But we didn't, we bought a nice, endearing villa.
The reason for that is, my nonna always told me to live simply. A simple life makes your soul serene, she'd say. Since I chose the house, I made the decision all on my own. I love making my own decisions. I love being in control. I know a lot of people do, but I almost need to be in control. I don't have some kind of disorder or something.
My nonna Katarina was the one who taught me Italian. When I was little, and my mom was at work, pulling double shifts to support us, my nonna would stay home with me and teach me. She never taught my mom though, because she wanted her to learn English as her first language. She wanted her daughter to become Americanized. Then when my mom got a little older, my nonna wanted to teach her, but there just wasn't any time to.
Now she'll learn though. I have a feeling we're going to live here for a while. She'll have to learn, so will I. Not the language, but I'll have to learn the many lessons that my nonna didn't have the time to teach me. She taught me a lot, but there are so many questions I want to ask her. So, so many.
The bad guy is envious of the good guy's strength. He's envious of the good guys ability to ask a friend for help. He's envious of the way the good guy can be trampled with hate and still give off love. But most of all, the bad guy is envious that the good guy is not afraid. The bad guy doesn't just turn into the good guy, because he's afraid. He's petrified, the bad guy is afraid because he's human too! He has emotions that are in conflict with each other, that's all. He's not bad.
Nonna Katerina told me fear can swallow a person whole, and the fact that he's afraid just makes him all the more human. Just remember to be a good person, make good from what you have, and God will help you through your troubles, that's what she taught me.
"I'm going to sleep. I'm ti—, I'm ti—," oh my. I keep yawning.
"I'm tired! Finally."
(Several hours later)
9:00AM, that's the time in Italy. I'm woken up now. I hear my mom's voice, the same loud, cracking voice, as the one she had yesterday. Sometimes I think it'll magically change in the middle of the night.
"Someone's at the door," she says.
I put my clothes on, I look around at my new room, it's empty. Barely anything, but I see outside of my room, there's a mattress covered in clear wrapping. It's an unfamiliar mattress. I realize that I actually slept on the floor with pillows and blankets, but no bed. I already know it, I just forgot for a second.
Marco is here.
I am pretty sure it's him, who else would it be?
I walk over to the door, and look through the peephole of the thick, wood carved door.
"Ciao, bella. I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a ride," he says, loudly. He's still ringing the doorbell, even though he knows I'm looking at him through the little hole.
I open the door and I see him dressed in a Nautica short sleeve shirt, and short grey pants. I am embarrassed. It is about eight four degrees Fahrenheit, and I came to the door with a long sleeved shirt and thick, long sweatpants.
"I would love to come," I giggle slightly.
He's even more handsome in the daylight. His eyes amber brown, his hair sun bleached brown, with streaks of orange. His shirt is tight on him, but it's okay, because he's very muscular.
"Let me get changed first, I think it's a little too hot outside for this outfit," I say looking down at myself. I smile but I really feel ridiculous.
"Of course," he says bowing sarcastically.
Unpacking with my mom won't be fun, at all. She wants this here, that that there. She is a piece of work, let me just say, and so was my nonna. That's why I tell her she can start unpacking her stuff.
"I'll be back soon, you can start unpacking those boxes, we have so many," I say, smiling.
I wonder what kind of guy Marco really is. I don't know him yet. I really hope he doesn't try to hit on all the young girls he drives around. He doesn't seem like the type to do that though. I just have a funny feeling.